Looking for love in my 60’s is not an easy road. Although, it’s probably not an easy road ever. I have a friend who is 49 who is having as much trouble as me. We have both been involved with men who were completely wrong. Unhealthy.
I was involved with a man for about 8 months. We met online, while he was undergoing chemotherapy. I kind of felt like maybe he didn’t have anyone, so I just talked to him as a friend. When he was through it, and was actually cleared of the cancer, we met, and seemed to hit it off.
We had some passion, although it was mostly me having a passion for him, and him having a passion for enjoying my passion, lol. Eventually, he showed me his true colors….choosing one night to have sex with a 31 year old woman (he was 66) who was reporting to prison the next day who came onto him for whatever reason. He didn’t even know her. I had written a long blog about the pain that caused me, I took it down, it somehow seemed to raw to keep up.
He actually had the nerve to ask me, after that, if I would care for him after his hernia surgery next week. He said he had no one else to ask. And so I actually agreed, with the stipulation that we were just friends, there would be no intimacy again ever. I explained that he could stay at my house, in my spare bedroom. I would be there for him, but would not be sitting holding his hand for the 3 or 4 days he was here. I would be going about my life, while making sure he was ok, and fed, and comfortable. I spent one night sleepless, trying to balance my desire to be compassionate with this man that I loved, against the pain he caused me. Compassion usually wins with me, and it did. I got the time off from work that I needed.
He took the fact that I would not be sitting with him the whole time to mean I would ignore him. (?) He said he thought it would be a good opportunity for us to sit and talk. That I didn’t need to keep reminding him that there would be no intimacy. Eventually, he got mad about it, and decided to, get this, stay in a hotel after surgery. A hotel. Yeah.
I was furious. At myself, for getting involved with him again, even as a friend. At him, for the mind-fuck he put me through, wasting 24 hours of my time. Telling me he had no one else, trying to manipulate me back into his bed. It got ugly. I told him he was an asshole, to do this to me yet again. He called me the “c” word.
I blocked him without another word. From my phone, from my email. Done, just done.
One of my favorite Joni Mitchell songs has always been The Same Situation. It’s short, and eloquent….and after this experience I was singing it in my head again, mostly the last part:
“Still I sent up my prayer, wondering who was there to hear
I said, “Send me somebody who’s strong and somewhat sincere”
With the millions of the lost and lonely ones
I called out to be released
Caught in my struggle for higher achievements
And my search for love that don’t seem to cease”
I went out with a male friend last night. We went out to dinner, then walked around the little shops in town, who were having a “First Friday” celebration in our little town. Then we came home and watched TV for awhile.
He is a nice man, and nice looking. Sweet, considerate. Opens the car door for me, helps me with my coat. Holds my arm as we walk on the icy sidewalks. We enjoy each other’s company. We snuggled mildly on the couch. We kissed goodnight but not passionately. But I feel no passion for him. We will never be more than friends. It’s ok, but I am still looking.
I just don’t know why it’s so hard. I don’t think I am just attracted to “bad boys” though my ex, and my last “boyfriend” (was he my boyfriend? I don’t know anymore….) were bad boys. I don’t want a bad boy. I want a man who has learned his lessons, and in his 60’s is somewhat settled in his life, is mature, is capable of loving deeply, though doesn’t jump into it without some thought. I like people who are outside the box. Who are creative, thoughtful, somewhat spiritual, whose cup is half-full all the time.
Where is he? My friend….I guess the reason I feel no passion is that he doesn’t seem to look below the surface at himself, or at least does not communicate it if he does. He asks very few questions, though will listen to me if I volunteer. I don’t think he understands some of my somewhat “new age” passions….reiki, sound healing, metaphysics.
The man who screwed the prison whore, I felt a connection with, right away. Maybe it was our common experience of abuse. Maybe it was his constant introspection, though he usually came to the conclusion that he wasn’t worthy. His cup was always almost empty. I am the opposite. It was strange, a relationship that in retrospective was bound to fail. But still, I feel like I knew him in a past life. I still feel the connection. I had hopes that we could be friends, without intimacy. He is funny, interesting, unusual. But I guess it’s not possible. I am concerned about his stay in the hotel, if in fact that’s what he does. But I won’t be contacting him to find out how he is. I won’t be in touch with him again.
I’m realizing that you can love someone, really care, but that it doesn’t mean that you can have them in your life. Not if you want a rich full life. We have to let go of things that no longer serve us, and for me, one of them was my relationship with him. It brought me no joy any longer, and a lot of pain.
I have a date with another man next week. He seems to have a lot in common with me, we have talked on the phone and ended up talking for a long time. That’s a good sign, but I’ve done that before, and ended up nowhere. I would so like to find someone creative, introspective, spiritual, who knows who he is and is grateful to be alive. And also capable of being passionate, still, even in his 60’s.
I will keep on keepin’ on. After a long marriage that began so passionately and ended so horribly….I have a burning desire to experience love, romantic love, with a man. I believe still, that love that lasts is possible.
Meanwhile, I’ll stay grateful for all that I have. My son, my family, my family of friends. A life that I love and is happy. I used to say, I believe he’s walking toward me. I still believe that. Just wish he’d hurry up.